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The Last Innocent Weasley
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By Karma205, what is hoped to be his true masterpiece.
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Summer at the Burrow, and here was Ron Weasley thinking it'd be another summer of Quidditch, Wizards Chess, and his mum's cooking. Instead, an overheard conversation and the truth it reveals threatens to ruin not only his summer, but himself too, as he struggles to come to grips with the opposite sex...
This fic contains scenes of a sexual nature, probably some bad language too, and is therefore rated M. May contain spoilers from the books. I do not own anything to do with Harry Potter, and this is a non-profit making fic. Finally, whatever you think about this fic, please review, I do accept anonymous reviews, and reading what people think is the reason I continue to write...
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The Story So Far:
Yesterday was a strange day indeed, one Ron is sure he'll never experience again, and one he won't want to, after listening in on a conversation between his sister and Hermione, only for the door he was listening at to swing open in front of him. He's been discovered...
Part Three:
A Shoulder To Cry On
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He was still moving backwards as the door flew open in front of his eyes. Shit, how could he have let this happen. He should have left earlier. He should never have listened in the first place. Panic flooded his mind, with the result that his body stopped moving altogether. He wouldn't have gotten away unseen anyway, he found himself thinking, now resigned to his fate, as a white blur ran straight out of the room, and straight into him.
"Oof!" all his breath escaped his body, as the shape collided with him, knocking him to the floor, and doing likewise, falling down on top of him. He was winded, though only momentarily, and he quickly caught his breath back again before looking at the person now lying on top of him. The door had already swung shut again, leaving a wooden backdrop, in front of which he realised who'd ran from the room.
It was Hermione, her face in his chest, her brown hair all over the place.
She was only there for a second though. Before he knew it, she was already pushing herself off him. He found himself gazing right down her as she did so, in the process catching a glimpse of her cleavage through the collar on the loose white nightgown she was wearing. He quickly looked up, ashamed of his actions, instinctive though they were, but she didn't look back. He saw her face briefly, red-eyed and wet with tears, before she had turned and run down the hall. He heard footsteps racing downstairs, mixed with the occasional soft sob.
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How long he lay there he didn't know. His sides hurt slightly from the collission, but he knew he was ok to move. He should really be going to bed, what if Ginny, or worse, his mum came out and found him lying on the floor late at night? But he found himself arguing with the only person to argue with - himself. The obvious thing was to go to bed, sleep, and see how things were in the morning, but the more he thought about it, the more he knew that he couldn't do, and if he did, he would surely regret it. As her friend, he knew he had to go and speak to her, sort things out. Who knew what could be going through her mind right now? He made up his mind, stood up slowly, the floorboards creaking under his weight, and then half turned towards his own bedroom, before shaking his head, turning around, and making his way downstairs.
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The house was deadly quiet, it was probably midnight by now, and though it was the holidays, everyone in his family was accustomed to a good night's sleep (as had been proved earlier, with everyone looking knackered after Fleur's (or Phlegm's, as he'd heard his sister call her to Hermione during today) antics last night). He was still fully dressed, and with every step down the stairs he was sure he was waking whoever was asleep up. His jeans rustled and his feet thumped on the wood, which creaked with every movement, to the extent that when he reached the bottom (much slower than usual), he was breathing heavily.
He regained his breath for a moment, letting his heartbeat return to normal again. He felt like a criminal in his own house, and for a split-second thought about going back and sorting matters out with Hermione in the morning. No, he'd sort it out now. He had to sort things out now. He saw a thin beam of light coming from under the living room door, and once he'd moved across to the closed door he'd made up his mind. He took a deep breath, and pushed open the door.
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She was there, lying down on the sofa, curled up, her arms holding her knees to her chest in the foetal position. She merely glanced up as he looked around the door at her, and didn't say anything. Ron waited for her to give him a clue, but none came. Instead, she looked away from him and stared at one of the walls. Ron took this as good - he'd expected a more heated response - and entered the room properly, sitting down in the armchair nearest to his friend. She looked at him again, her eyes red, though the tears seemed to have stopped for the time being. He looked back at her, unsure what to say, and silence followed, none of them speaking.
"Ro"
"Herm-"
Both of them began at the same time and stopped straight away. Ron almost laughed, but stopped himself when she didn't even smile. Instead, he decided to let her talk first, and nodded for her to go on. She looked away again, her eyes not making contact with his.
"Why were you outside the bedroom?" she started, a monotone voice not displaying any emotion at all.
It was trademark Hermione Granger, straight to business, no messing, and he knew he should have expected it. Instead, he didn't have a reply, or more specifically didn't have a suitable excuse. His silence gave more away than an answer would have done anyway.
"So you're not even going to deny it? I know you were listening Ron, I know you heard everything, everything your slut of a sister's done, everything she said about me, you heard her, you heard her having a go at me." her voice started as her last sentence had ended, but as she spoke anger crept in, and she ended up on the verge of tears again. Ron knew he had to say something, but there was nothing he could say.
She buried her face in the nearest cushion, and he heard her crying. Immediately, he got out of his chair and moved across the room to her, kneeling on the floor beside the sofa, his face level with hers. He started to speak, even he didn't know what he was going to tell her, and he was glad that she cut him off again, removing her face from the cushion and sobbing uncontrollably.
"I thought we were friends, I thought we knew each other, but now this..." she said, on the verge of shouting now. "I still can't believe she did that, and I'm sure she can't either! No way is she pleased with it really, she's just showing off, just showing off..." her voice trailed off, and Ron thought she'd finished, but she seemed to gain control over herself, and continued on, her sobs now subsiding. "She's still the Ginny of old inside, but there's an imposter, a girl trying to show off on the outside, a slut who'll sleep with anything, and a slut who hates being around people lower than her, who hates being around virgins, who hates being around poor old Hermione, the know-it-all teachers' pet who'll be a virgin all her life..." she trailed off again, this time for good.
Ron was taken aback, not by what his friend had said, but how easily she'd seemed to say it. This wasn't Hermione, Hermione wasn't like this, she wasn't a girl who spent her life trying to impress boys, trying to get laid. Or was it? Suddenly the words came to him.
"Hermione," he started softly, looking right at her, "at least you're smart, I've not even got brains."
And as he said it, he realised just how true it was. Sure she was a virgin, no good with the boys, but here he was, Ron Weasley, bad with girls and bad with work. Hermione looked up at him properly for the first time, as if she'd just realised who he was, or where she was, and she smiled faintly.
"I'm sorry Ron, I'm being selfish"
He was already shaking his head, "no you're not. I don't know how I'd react if someone made fun of me like Ginny just did to you..."
Hermione smiled again, wiping a stray tear on a cushion, and sitting up on the sofa for the first time, seemingly over her unhappiness. "Thanks," she said, motioning next to her for him to sit down. Even before he'd properly sat, he felt her put an arm around him, and then she rested her head on his shoulder. He put an arm around her in reply, and they cuddled together, both of them far happier than they had been moments earlier.
"I'm glad I've still got you," Hermione said, softly, "I don't think I'll be talking to your sister for a while."
Ron laughed softly. "No doubt you'll be beating me at Wizard's Chess the rest of the summer then!"
Hermione chucked in reply, but didn't say anything, and the two Hogwarts students stayed together, both lost in their own thoughts as the night drew on, silence all around, the most peaceful Ron had felt as long as he could remember.
"Uh!"
The loud moan broke through the peace, followed seconds later by another, louder one. Hermione looked up at him, "Fleur?"
He nodded back the obvious answer. Hermione chuckled softly again. "It seems as if everyone's getting some except us..."
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End Of Part Three
Stay alert for the next part, where Hermione tries to make things up with Ginny, but ends up with Ron.
